


Win, Lose, or Draw

by LilyRosePotter



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Future Fic, Multi, running for office
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 12:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16723170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyRosePotter/pseuds/LilyRosePotter
Summary: “I fucked up,” Lovett whispers. “I don’t want to lose because I fucked up.”





	Win, Lose, or Draw

**Author's Note:**

  * For [speakingwosound (sev313)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sev313/gifts).



Jon stares at the closed door. It still seems like it’s shaking on its hinges, but he’s pretty sure that’s just his imagination, nerves running wild after the week they’ve had.

The interns are still huddled in the corner. “It’s- It’s not your fault,” Tommy is sighing at them.

“It’s kinda-” Jon says tentatively.

“Go do your fucking job,” Tommy snaps without turning around, “and let the rest of us handle our own.”

Jon flips him off and then squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath, pushing the door open in one smooth motion.

Lovett is sitting on his desk, back ramrod straight as he stares out the window.

Lovett hears him come in, he _must_ hear him come in; Jon’s footsteps echo as he crosses the floor. But Lovett doesn’t turn around or move or react at all. Jon stops in front of the desk, knees brushing against the wood. Lovett is maybe six inches away but it feels like a mile, desk and anger and looming deadlines between them.

Jon takes a deep breath and breaks the silence. “You have to call him.”

Lovett stays still as a statue.

“You know I’m right,” Jon presses, “we need him.”

“Dozens.” Lovett says sharply, still staring out the window. “Dozens of comms people on this campaign and none of them can figure out how to deal with this? The founders of this elite communications consulting firm, you may have heard of it, Fenway Strategies, work on this campaign. I don’t –”

“And yet–” Jon interrupts, “You’ve rejected everything we’ve suggested because you have a shadow comms director in your head.”

Lovett’s shoulders finally drop. “He won’t come.”

Jon sighs and walks around the desk to lean against it next to Lovett. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through his contacts, hitting call and then flicking on the speakerphone. Lovett doesn’t stop him.

“Why don’t we find out?”

 

***

 

“First of all, I know what you look like. And second of all, that sign doesn’t even have my name on it,” Dan bitches as he pushes through the crowd in arrivals of LAX.

Jon grins and pulls him into a one armed hug. “Take every opportunity to advertise?” Jon offers, “and welcome to Los Angeles.”

“Fuck LA,” Dan says, shifting his bag on his shoulder. “We sat on the tarmac for more time than the actual flight.”

“Official campaign policy is to, um, not, shit talk the city we’re trying to win over, thank you very much,” Jon says primly, grabbing Dan’s suitcase and leading the way towards the exit, “and besides, think about how many extra people saw my sign while I waited for hours.” He waves the _Lovett for Mayor_ sign in Dan’s face for emphasis.

“I don’t work for the campaign yet,” Dan retorts. “I am here to consult as a favor to an-” he stumbles “old friend.”

Jon shoots him a look, “but we both know you’re staying.”

“Do we?” Dan says weakly as the automatic doors slide open and they step into the sun.

 

***

 

Dan and Lovett are screaming at each other. They’ve been yelling for an hour and, Jon makes a note, they _really_ need to soundproof Lovett‘s office.

“You’re too fucking smart to get tripped up by a hot mic and you know it,” Dan yells over Lovett’s sputtering. “Stop taking your fuck up out on everyone else and maybe we can fix it!”

The door flies open with a crash and the interns cower against the wall.

“When did his head get this far up his ass?” Dan mutters rhetorically as he drops into Tommy’s empty desk chair.

Tommy laughs from where he’s sitting on Jon‘s desk. “Was it ever not?”

Jon pokes his knee. “Lay off, he’s stressed.”

“We’re all stressed,” Tommy jumps off his desk. “And we’re all here because we believe in him, but if this doesn’t get better, I’m going to walk and I don’t think I’m the only one.” He grabs his bag and squeezes Dan’s shoulder. “Come on, the kids are excited to see you.“

Dan nods, replacing his scowl with a smile.

“Jon, you coming?” Tommy asks, “I have 8000 burgers to cook.”

“I’ll be there in a bit,” Jon eyes the door. “Save me one.”

“Good luck,” Dan says ominously, following Tommy out the door.

Jon rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you all call it for the night,” he tells the interns and remaining staff. No one is getting any work done now, and he’d rather not have an audience for this.

“Are you going to walk too?” Lovett says darkly when Jon takes a nervous step into the office. He’s curled around himself in the window seat, chin up defiantly, even though his fingers, twisted in Pundit’s curls, tell a different story.

“You know I’m not.” Jon grabs Lovett‘s desk chair and pulls it over so he can sit next to his knees. “And you know Tommy won’t either, he’s just tired of reporters right now.”

“Fuck reporters.”

“Would that it were that simple,” Jon rests his elbows on his knees and reaches out for Pundit’s head. “Come on Jon, you know that this is stupid.”

Lovett looks away. Jon slowly strokes Pundit, waiting him out.

“I fucked up,” Lovett whispers, finally. Jon waits. “I don’t want to lose because I fucked up.”

“Then let us _help_ you,” Jon says softly, squeezing his knee.

“Okay,” Lovett says, tilting in the window seat so that Jon can wrap his arms around him, pulling Lovett into his chest.

“And apologize to your staff,” Jon adds warningly.

“Do I _have_ to?”

 

***

 

“Uncle Lovett!” The girls call excitedly when Jon opens the gate. Jon can't muster offense at being passed over when Lovett looks so happy to see them.

“Hey maybe they won’t forget what you look like,” Tommy snarks.

Lovett rolls his eyes, “very funny.” He kisses their heads and crosses the yard to where Tommy is standing by the grill. Lovett says something Jon can’t hear, but it must be an apology because Tommy’s shoulders relax and he reaches out to squeeze Lovett’s arm.

“Jon,” Dan calls his attention. “Want one?” He holds out a bottle and Jon grins, claiming the seat next to Dan on the deck.

“Thanks,” he says gratefully. “Did you get to hear all about the singing cows?”

“More than I ever needed to know,” Dan grins. “You clearly succeeded?” He nods towards Lovett.

“I think so,” Jon says slowly.

“It’s rude to talk about people,” Lovett announces, perching on the arm of Jon’s chair. Jon sticks out his tongue even as he reaches out to hold Lovett steady. “Tomorrow,” Lovett continues, looking at a spot above Dan’s head, “I promise I will listen to your expertise and be less of a dick.”

“Still reserving the right to be a bit of a dick though?” Dan asks wryly, but he’s smiling.

“Would I be a political candidate if I wasn’t?”

Jon smirks at Dan around Lovett’s shoulder. “O-“

“No no no, all three of you shut up!”

“I said nothing!” Tommy says immediately.

“Traitor,” Jon laughs.

“I’ll fire you all,” Lovett threatens as they crack up. “See if I don’t.”

 

***

  
There’s nowhere that Lovett’s image of himself is so far from reality as at fundraisers, Jon reflects as he watches him work the room. Lovett claims to be terrible at small talk, terrible at winning people over, but a lifetime of talking his way out of situations, into opportunities, getting things done at the last minute, combines perfectly for schmoozing a room of Hollywood execs the day before a fundraising deadline.

“He’s doing well,” Dan echoes his thoughts as he approaches, handing Jon a glass of wine and leaning next to him against the wall.

“He is,” Jon agrees. “We’ve already hit the goal, this is all a bonus.” Most of the attendees have cleared out already, the little knot left is full of Lovett’s admirers watching in awe as he sweet talks a last hold out.

“He’s got quite a fan club,” Dan observes. It’s creepy, really, how often they’re on the same page.

“You’re one to talk,” Jon lifts an eyebrow. He’s not entirely sure what happened between Dan and Lovett, three years ago on the last pod tour they’d both done, but he’s not blind, he can see the way Dan’s eyes follow Lovett, the way Lovett pretends he’s not looking back.

“Fuck off,” Dan mutters. “You think there’s any chance he pulls this off?”

“I’m out of the prediction business,” Jon says pettily to hear Dan laugh. “You know me, Dan, I’m always one for the underdog.”

“Yeah,” Dan hums.

“And I’ve always believed in Lovett."

 

***

 

“Hey Jon,” Lovett perches on his desk in the bullpen. Jon is mid-edit, pen dangling over the page.

“Huh?”

“Well first of all you have ink on your face,” Lovett reaches out to wipe at Jon’s lip with his thumb. Jon frowns and looks down.

“Fuck.” His pen is leaking _everywhere,_ his hands, the paper, and apparently where he’d absently stuck it in his mouth.

“Disaster,” Lovett says affectionately. “Anyway, do you have the poll numbers yet?”

“Ahh,” Jon looks at his desk, paper everywhere, both laptop and iPad half buried. “Maybe?”

“He doesn’t,” Dan says firmly, walking up near silently. Lovett jumps, face… guilty? “Because he can't keep a secret and he has no poker face.”

“Hey,” Jon protests perfunctorily, mostly focused on trying to find a napkin or tissue or-

“Here, Jon,” Dan holds out a paper towel that he’s seemingly conjured from thin air. “How’s the speech aside from covered in ink?”

“It’s-” Jon looks up. His speechwriting days are mostly behind him, but this one matters, so when Dan suggested he should take a look at it he’d already had a copy on his desk. “It’s pretty good. I rewrote the healthcare section last night and I’m messing with some of the energy language now, it’s too specialized but, it’s getting there.”

“Using terms of art in the field is not-“ Lovett starts and they both hold up their hands at the same time.

“You’re not giving a speech to scientists,” Dan says firmly.

Jon grins, “the man speaks the truth.” _No poker face_ , he frowns. “Wait, are you _hiding_ the poll numbers?”

“No one needs to see them before this speech,” Dan says simply. “None of the polling changes the message we’re trying to put out and it’ll just get in his head.”

“Your power trip is in my head now!” Lovett whines.

“Hey,” Dan stares at Lovett head on. Jon watches carefully, willing them to- “You gotta trust your comms director’s instincts.”

Jon sucks in air.

Lovett’s face lights up. “You’re staying?”

Dan shrugs, fake nonchalant. “Looks like it.”

 

***

 

“You know,” Jon muses. “Some senior campaign staff would think canvassing is not the most effective use of their time.”

“You know,” Dan mimics. “Some senior campaign staff would be idiots.”

Jon laughs easily. “Damn straight. You want to take point on this one?”

“Yeah,” Dan knocks on the door. A young woman with a toddler on her hip opens it and Dan leans down a little to smile at the baby as he starts his spiel, “Hi ma’am, we’re with Jon Lovett’s mayoral campaign. Do you have a few minutes to talk about the issues facing the city?”

She laughs a little. “I know who you are, the podcast isn’t the same without you guys running it, and I’m definitely voting for him in the primary.”

“Glad to hear it,” Dan smiles.

“Always good to know that the terrible accents and impressions haven’t put longtime listeners off,” Jon jokes.

“Not at all,” she grins. “My wife and I are gonna try to come out and do some volunteering, we just have to schedule around this guy.”

“Well when you figure it out-” Dan hands her their volunteering pamphlet. “Thank you for your time.”

Dan grins at Jon as they walk down the driveway. Jon grins back. He loves canvassing in general, but he really loves canvassing with Dan; watching Dan light up as he talks about Lovett’s policies and the impact they could have. It feels like something old and something brand new, the two of them, hitting familiar rhythms, finishing each other’s sentences, shooting the shit between houses.

It feels like democracy and like hope and like 2008 and like 2025 and every year in between. It feels like a history and a future.

“Will you stay?” Jon asks quietly. “If he wins?”

“When he wins,” Dan corrects, eyes shining with uncharacteristic optimism. He shrugs. “If he’ll have me.”

 

***

 

“You’re sleeping with him,” Dan says flatly.

“I– yeah, I am,” Jon admits. Dan’s expression is unreadable. Angry, maybe? Confused? A flash of... hurt?

“Do you know how-” angry, then. “Why didn’t anyone _tell_ me?” Dan snaps.

Jon flinches. “I don’t see how it’s your business.” _too defensive, Jon, why so defensive_.

Dan glares at him. “Oh? This could be a campaign sinking scandal, you don’t think I need to know about it before agreeing to be comms director?”

He’s got a point there. But still… “Lovett’s pretty openly-”

“Fuck off Jon, you know that’s not the issue,” Dan says. “Were you- before you got your job?”

“I… sometimes.”

“Shit.” Dan rubs at his forehead. “Ethics questions — and they’re big ones — aside. Why am I the last to know? I thought…”

“There might be a couple interns in the dark,” Jon jokes lamely while he searches for an answer that’s not just _because I knew you’d react like this_.

Dan doesn’t laugh. “The interns are where I _got_ it." His eyes are flashing. “Why Jon?”

“You...” Jon says. “I didn’t know if-, I was scared, okay? I don’t know what the fuck happened between you and Lovett but it’s been so fucking flammable ever since, I wasn’t going to gossip about him with you when we started and when you got here,” he shrugs. “I wasn’t going to be the one to fuck it up.”

“I thought-” Dan sighs. “Fuck, Jon.” He sits down on the edge of the table, focusing on the floor.

Jon sighs, guilty, and slowly sits next to him. “I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret from you,” he says softly. “I just didn’t know how to-”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not like– we don’t-  we haven’t fucking talked about... any of it,” Jon says honestly. “I don’t know if we’re like, going anywhere or… If he wins.”

“You’re an idiot,” Dan knocks their shoulders together. “He obviously…”

“Does he?” Jon asks. “Because he suddenly has important things to do every time I bring it up.”

“That’s just Lovett,” Dan laughs, a little hollow, “You should make him talk though. If nothing else, knowing what you’re dealing with will help when this inevitably blows up in our faces.”

 

***

 

“Dan knows,” Jon says, as he shuts his front door behind him.

“Good for him,” Lovett says flatly. “I don’t see how it’s any of his business.”

Jon bristles a little, even though he had said the same thing earlier. “I mean, if it got out it might be. And–” he sighs. “He’s our friend… Isn’t he?”

“Of course he is,” Lovett sighs. “He’s just also…” he cuts himself off.

“He’s also _what_ Lovett?” Jon presses.

Lovett huffs and looks away, “I don’t know.”

“What-” _happened between you? Why won’t you talk about it?_ Jon’s brain is spinning. What comes out of his mouth is: “Lovett, what are we _doing_ here?”

“Sitting in your living room? Running a mayoral campaign? Failing at adulthood- you’re out of milk,” Lovett says flippantly.

“ _Jon_ ,” Jon says firmly, staring him down. “You and me. What is this?” Lovett doesn’t move. “Are we just fucking?” Lovett winces. “Because I could be okay with that.” _I think._ “But I’d like to know. Are we waiting to see what happens in six weeks?” _Are you going to drop me if we win?_

“Jon,” Lovett‘s voice shakes. “I don’t… What do you want?”

His heart stops “I- whatever you want to give me,” Jon says honestly.

“Jon,” Lovett‘s jaw literally drops. “I didn’t- I don’t-” He surges towards Jon. “Everything,” he promises. “you can have everything.”

Jon’s chest feels too tight, overflowing, and he pulls Lovett in for a fierce kiss. “I want it all,” he promises against Lovett’s lips, hands slipping under his shirt.

“It’s yours,” Lovett says breathlessly. “Fuck.”

 

***

 

“Lovett?” Jon asks quietly, tracing Lovett’s ribs as they’re lying in bed an hour later.

“Hmm?”  Jon‘s head moves with the rise and fall of his chest as Lovett speaks, his hand still moving slowly through Jon’s hair. “Grey is so good on you it’s _unfair._ ”

Jon chuckles a little then pushes up on an elbow to look down at Lovett.

“What happened with Dan?”

“God,” Lovett sighs. “You’re relentless.”

“I’ve let it go for three years,” Jon says flatly. “I am not going anywhere. Tell me what happened.”

Lovett breathes out and pushes himself up against the pillows. “I-” he bites his lip. “We fucked.” Jon’s eyebrows go up “And then we fought. And then I stormed out and wouldn’t answer his calls.”

“About?” He prompts.

“Crooked. Whether we could, you know, do a relationship. Dan staying in San Francisco.” Lovett sighs. “You.”

“ _Me_?” Jon squeaks.

“You might not have noticed,” Lovett says dryly, “but I kinda have a thing for you.”

Jon can’t _not_ smile at that. But… he frowns. “You have a thing for Dan too.”

Lovett rolls his eyes, “fucked that up a long time ago.”

Jon frowns. _An… old friend; when he wins; I thought…_  “I’m not so sure you did.”

“I know you like to pretend you have a martyr complex but-” Lovett starts.

“Shut up for a second,” Jon interrupts.

_Dan’s eyes following Lovett in every room, just like Jon’s own. Dan pressing their shoulders together in a hundred rooms in the past two decades, always trusting Jon to be in on the joke. Lovett dropping down at cafeteria tables, in five different offices, in dozens of hotel rooms and green rooms, trying so much harder than he needed to to make them laugh._

“What if-” Jon bites his lip. “What if you didn’t fuck it up? What if you could have both of us?”

“The mayor’s harem?”Lovett says flippantly.

Jon waits him out.

“Wait. You’re-” Lovett stills. “You and Dan?”

“It never-” Jon shrugs. _Red stained lips and the roar of a victory party echoing into the hallway. A camera pointed at him while he glared at Twitter instead of taking in a museum Tommy dragged them too._  “Almost. A couple times.”

“He still doesn’t want me,” Lovett says after a long time.

“You’re wrong,” Jon insists. “Just… think about it?”

Lovett sighs longsufferingly. “Sure Jon. I will _consider_ this fantasy realm you live in where no one’s heart gets broken and everyone lives happily every after in polyamorous relationships.”

Jon pinches him. “That’s all I ask.”

“I believe you were telling me how embarrassingly into my fingers you are?” Lovett changes the subject transparently.

Jon lets him and grabs for his hand, kissing his fingertips. “Let me count the ways,” he giggles.

 

***

 

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ” Lovett shouts, walking into the office, Dan and Tommy on his heels, from a meet and greet. “Tell me you have a copy!” he snaps at Jon.

“It’s all over the internet of course I do,” Jon sighs. “Come on.” He jerks his head and walks into Lovett’s office, trusting them to follow him. They do, of course, Lovett kicking the trash can loudly on accident or on purpose as he walks in.

Tommy closes the door with a click and joins them around Lovett’s monitor.

“Deep breath,” Jon warns and then presses play.

“If Norway or Sweden, one of the good guys, wanted to hack the election… we’d consider it,” Lovett’s voice echoes from the speaker.

“Shit,” Tommy mutters.

“Top of my issues: gun violence.”

“You love it and you want more of it.”

Dan groans.

"We got democratic officials filling out fake ballots left and right-"

The ad plays for a full three minutes, full of out of context quotes or jokes that must be the product of thousands of hours of some poor interns listening to every pod and video they’ve ever put out.

“My budget limit is sultan of Brunei.”

“This is the real Jon Lovett,” a voiceover intones before the last clip plays. “Shut up you rubes, I’m the salt of the fucking earth.”

In the office, Lovett’s head is in his hands. Jon reaches over to put a tentative hand on his shoulder. “ _Fuck_ ,” Lovett mutters darkly. “I’m _screwed_.”

“No you’re not,” Jon says immediately. He looks up and regrets it. Tommy looks stricken. Jon’s suddenly afraid to look at Dan.

They’ve always known they were putting a lot of material out into the world. There’s been a few misused quotes already, that they dealt with fairly easily. But- this feels different. It’s too well organized, it’s too close to the election, it’s-

Jon forces his head to turn towards Dan. Dan… smiles at him.

“We’re not screwed,” Dan says firmly. He reaches out to squeeze Lovett’s other shoulder and his fingers brush Jon’s, brief and electric. “We have to be careful how we respond but we are _not_ screwed.”

Lovett shakes his head but he does sit up straight. His face is pale and drawn, accentuating the lines under his eyes.

“How do we counter it?” Tommy asks skeptically. “It’s his words and his face and his voice and it’s already got,” he checks the screen, “fifty thousand views.”

“We’ve been sitting on some oppo of our own,” Dan says, resolute. Jon grins at him. “And- we’ve avoided playing up the comedian angle, but I think now is maybe the time to put out the comedic hits spot that the interns have been working on.”

“You made them watch my comedy?” Lovett asks hoarsely.

“It’s a lot of pod footage,” Dan explains, “but we did find some old stand-up videos too. I think- if we don’t already have clips from some of the same shows,” he nods towards the screen, “we’ll add some. Recontextualize the tone of the recordings.”

Jon’s heart thuds a little but Lovett says it before he can, “Crooked Media is not a _joke_ , Dan.”

“I _know_ ,” Dan says urgently. “You know that I know, you guys know I think it’s the most important thing. But, I don’t think the shows have to be a joke to have a light and sometimes joking tone, and most of those clips _were_ jokes.” He shrugs a little. “We won’t put it up until you give the go-ahead, but I think it’s our best shot.”

“We have less than a month,” Lovett whispers, still shaken. “This could-”

“It _won’t_ ,” Dan says firmly.

“Not if we dont let it,” Jon agrees.

Dan squeezes Lovett’s shoulder again and Jon can feel Lovett relax under their hands.

“Okay,” Lovett agrees in a small voice. He breathes slow and deep. “Let’s get to work.”

 

***

 

“Do you know…. much… hate mornings?” Lovett grumbles leaning on Jon’s shoulder in the car.

“One more week,” Jon promises.

“The early mornings don’t _stop_ ,” Lovett whines. “Hopefully. What’re we-” The car stops outside the apartment Dan is renting and Lovett frowns.

“You knew he was coming with us to the morning shows,” Jon says easily.

“Who agreed to that, how’m I supposed to-”

Jon’s heart leaps a little. They haven’t talked about it again, in so many words, but Lovett- He’s pretty sure Lovett has stopped trying to hide the way he looks at Dan. He’s definitely loosened up when talking to Jon about Dan.

_Maybe._

The door opens and Lovett shuts up. He groans at the light and turns his face into Jon’s shoulder.

“What time did you go to bed last night?” Dan asks rhetorically. Jon grins at the bright packaging in his hands and Dan winks at him. “Actually never mind I don’t want to know.”

“Two a.m. and get your brain out of the gutter,” Jon answers when Lovett just squeezes the fleece of Jon’s hoodie. “He was making phone calls too late and then reading the briefing books for these interviews.”

“Morning shows suck like that,” Dan says agreeably. “Lovett.”

“Mrgh,” Lovett says into Jon’s shoulder.

Dan reaches over to squeeze his knee and Lovett tenses. “Look alive, I went out and got you coffee and donuts.”

Lovett sits up immediately, eyes lighting up. “Fuck. I l-”

Jon’s breath catches.

“Put the coffee down,” Lovett mutters and then he’s practically diving across the gap between the seats in the town car to pull a shocked Dan into a kiss.

Jon’s heart stops.

Dan’s hands come up to Lovett’s jacket covered shoulders as he kisses Lovett back, like he’s desperate for it. Jon’s been thinking about seeing the two of them kiss, well, seeing the two of them do a lot more than kiss, for weeks now, but even at what’s an objectively terrible angle, nothing could have prepared him for what it would actually be like in reality.

“Fuck, Lovett, stop.” Dan is pushing him back and Lovett falls next to Jon with a hurt noise. Jon can _feel_ the walls closing around him. “You don’t- you’re tired-” he looks at Jon, face horrified, “you two-”

“Have talked about this and are on board,” Jon says firmly, reaching for Lovett’s hand and squeezes so tight.

Dan gapes at him. “You’re not-”

“We are.” Lovett’s certainty shocks everyone, including Lovett, if the way he's shaking is any indication. “I was supposed to like… talk to Jon again - sorry - and preferably not do this in a moving vehicle when I have to go on TV in thirty minutes but we-” he looks at Jon and Jon nods. “We want you Dan, we- I-” his voice cracks. “I’m kinda in love with you.”

“Same,” Jon confirms, resting a hand on Dan’s knee carefully.

Dan doesn’t pull away. Dan stares at them, eyes flicking back and forth like one of them is going to crack and yell _April Fools!_ or something.

“Say something,” Lovett chokes out after what feels like forever.

Dan shakes his head, disbelieving. “You can’t be serious. You two are- you don’t need me.”

“We really do,” Jon promises. “Haven’t you noticed? We can’t run a campaign without you, we can’t make it places on time without you, we couldn’t- we hooked up for months without talking about our feelings until _you_ pushed me. We need you so much Dan, and… we _want_ you so much.”

“I- _fuck_ ,” Dan swears, a slow careful smile breaking over his face. “I never thought- Can I-” his hands reaching for Jon.

“ _Please_ ,” Jon manages past the lump in his throat.

And then Dan is kissing him, one hand cupping Jon’s head, the other reaching, presumably, for Lovett. Dan is kissing him and he tastes like toothpaste and coffee and hope. Dan is kissing him and Lovett’s hand is shaking in his and they’re in a car heading to LA Today. Dan is kissing him and Dan’s going to be kissing Lovett next, or maybe Jon will kiss Lovett next, and they get to _have_ this _impossible_ dream.

Dan pulls back finally, just far enough to turn his head and kiss Lovett too, and the car stops at a light and they’re all shocked back to reality.

“Seatbelts,” Jon points at both of them.

“You’re worrying about seatbelts when-” Lovett mutters.

“If I don’t worry about seatbelts we might not get to the rest,” Jon retorts.

“Drink your coffees,” Dan laughs at them both, passing out miraculously unspilled cups.

“Donuts,” Lovett says insistently and Dan laughs and hands over the box. “Did you know I was this easy? Wait don’t answer that.”

“Yes,” Jon kisses his head. “Welcome to my fantasy realm,” he smirks into Lovett’s hair.

“Fuck off,” Lovett says, but he’s smiling.

“What-” Dan asks.

“It’s- later,” Jon promises. The car is pulling through the gates behind the studio. “We have so much… later.”

Dan unbuckles and quickly kisses Lovett and then Jon before he opens the door. “We do.”

He looks like he can’t wait. Jon certainly can’t.

 

***

 

“Exit polls mean nothing,” Lovett says unprompted when Dan walks into his office.

Dan lifts an eyebrow. “Correct.”

“But what do they say?” Lovett presses. The whole room dissolves into laughter. Jon takes advantage of the fact that Lovett’s standing between his legs to pull Lovett into his chest and kiss his head.

“Gross,” Tommy makes a face at them.

Jon grins back, smug. “Says you,” he retorts with a raised eyebrow towards the corner where Elijah and the girls are huddled around a pizza.

Dan closes the door carefully and walks over to Lovett’s desk. “They look good,” he smiles, leaning in for a quick kiss. Lovett hums contentedly.

Jon smiles at Dan and leans in for a kiss of his own. They still have a lot to figure out, including if this thing can ever go beyond the tight inner circle in this room. But for now-

“You ready?” Tanya asks, as the clock on the wall clicks over to 9 p.m. Polls closed.

“I’ve got everything I need,” Lovett says.

“You fucking liar,” Dan laughs. “You’d be counting votes yourself if it would make them come in sooner.”

Lovett shrugs.

“You know, with mail-in ballots…” Tommy smirks.

“Shut your mouth,” Lovett snaps, “and pray for the quickest election in California history.”

Jon squeezes his shoulders. “We’re here for the duration,” he promises; leans in to whisper, “proud of you.”

Lovett grins and reaches for his beer, holding it aloft with ceremony. “Win, lose, or draw?”

“Win, lose, or draw.”

 


End file.
